


Wire To Wire

by anxiousgeek



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bisexual Cassandra Pentaghast, F/F, Friendship, Rare Pairings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 15:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16390328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiousgeek/pseuds/anxiousgeek
Summary: Cassandra and Hawke finally meet and there is something very familiar about the Champion Of Kirkwall.





	Wire To Wire

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still pissed that there is no meeting between Cassandra and Hawke in Inquisition.

There is something about Marian Hawke that’s very familiar.   
  
At first Cassandra thinks it’s just because she’s read Varric’s book one too many times, or actually listened to the man tell the story to her but as time goes on she thinks it’s something else. She can’t quite work it out though.  
  
That first morning, when they meet in the courtyard, Hawkes red hair in disarray after a sparring session with one of Leliana’s scouts and cheeks flushed the same shade Cassandra is a little bowled over by her. Storybook Hawke is larger than life, sarcastic, bold and confident. The real Hawke is beautiful but quiet, polite and honest.  
  
“It’s an honour to meet you Seeker Pentaghast,” she says, and it’s genuine. “I’m a little awed to be honest.”  
  
The feeling is mutual but Cassandra can’t quite find the words to say it. She shakes the woman’s hand and manages a smile instead.  
  
“Welcome to Skyhold Champion,” she says. “I see you’ve settled in.” She nods to the scout who is picking herself up off the floor after their bout.  
  
“Oh yeah no shortage of pissed of Free Marchers who want a go at the Champion of Kirkwall,” Hawke says with a laugh. She smooths down her hair, carding her fingers through it and Cassandra watches.  
  
“Surely not one of our people?”  
  
“Well, for starters, I’m pretty sure all your scouts are loyal to Leliana, but that’s neither here nor there,” she says, smiling at the scout as she wanders off. “You can’t tell me that you yourself aren’t a little pissed off with me. At least she has a good reason.”  
  
“I have a good reason!” Cassandra cries.   
  
Hawke shrugs.  
  
“Maybe, maybe not. But you should be nicer to Varric.”   
  
Grabbing her daggers she wanders off after the scout and Cassandra is left a little dumbfounded.

 

* * *

  
  
Another morning and another sparring session. This time with one of the chargers. Cassandra watches the entire fight until Skinner flattens Hawke to the ground. The human is laughing though, the elf grunting as she helps her up.  
  
“Next time I draw blood,” Skinner says and Hawke smiles.  
  
“I like you,” she replies. “Good match.”  
  
Skinner nods, ignores Cassandra and heads back into the tavern. It’s too early for Cassandra to even think about ale but most of the Chargers seem to live there. She envies them a little for their camaraderie, much as she does Templars and soldiers. Seekers have always led more solitary existence.   
  
“Another Marcher with a grudge?” she asks.   
  
Hawke shakes her head.  
  
“Not a grudge against me anyway. Skinner’s always pissed off.”  
  
Cassandra doesn’t know the Chargers well, but she does know that.   
  
“If you are being bothered I could have them dealt with,” she says.  
  
“I’m sure you can, but I can handle it, thank you,” Hawke slides her daggers into their sheaths on her back. “Have you see Varric this morning?”  
  
“He is in his usual chair in the main hall.”  
  
“Have you been nicer to him?” she asks and the question is genuine, not a joke and gives Cassandra pause.   
  
“I’m not generally nice to anyone,” she admits  
  
“I don’t think that’s true,” she says with a smile that lights up her whole face in a way Cassandra does not dream about later. “You just have a different way of showing it.”   
  
Not knowing how to respond other than blushing, Cassandra manages a weak smile of her own and a mumbled thank you. Hawke pats her on the arm before she leaves for the bathhouse. Cassandra does not watch her leave.   
  
Except the woman turns back and smiles at Cassandra, her own cheeks a little-flushed; though the Seeker knows it’s just from exertion and nothing else.  


* * *

  
  
Finally, there’s no one to spar with.   
  
Cassandra finds Hawke stabbing her training dummy with one of her more elaborate looking daggers. They're jewelled, Silverite she thinks, and sharp as any sword she’s seen. Sharper perhaps given the way it slices through the straw dummy. Hawke is barely using any force, any energy, any anger.  
  
“Just going to watch or do you want to go a few rounds?”  
  
Normally Cassandra would, and she considers it, but she can’t look away from the dark rims around Hawkes eyes or the pale colour of her skin. The way she attacks the dummy with precision, hitting every internal organ, every weak spot an enemy could have.  
  
She’s both aroused and worried and manages to force down the first feeling.  
  
“What troubles you Hawke?” she asks. “Who is the dummy?”  
  
Hawke makes a last strike to the dummy, double daggers to either side of its head. The straw and canvas finally give in and the head rolls off and falls to the floor at their feet. They both look at it, then each other.  
  
“A number of people. An Ogre, Meredith, Orsino, Quentin, Corypheus, you, me.”  
  
“Yourself?” Cassandra asks.   
  
“I’ve made some terrible mistakes Seeker,” she says, kicking at the straw head. “I deserve it and every other hit.”  
  
“I doubt that.”  
  
“You don’t know me.”  
  
“No, but I know the mistakes you’ve made. The choices you’ve made.” Hawke shrugs. “You do not deserve the ire of anyone. Not even me.”  
  
“Oh I don’t know about that,” she says with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure I pissed you off good.”  
  
“You did, but that doesn’t mean you deserved it.”  
  
Hawke nods.   
  
“I’m going to get some breakfast,” she says after a few moments silence. “Will you join me?”  
  
Cassandra has eaten, she rises much earlier than this and eats first but Hawke finally smiles, bright behind the tired eyes and the stifled yawn.   
  
“Perhaps just for some tea,” she tells her.  
  
“Sounds good.”  
  
They walk together into the main hall and Cassandra has a servant fetch Hawke some food, some tea before they settle at Varric’s table, the dwarf deep into a manuscript already. Cassandra isn’t sure when he sleeps, if at all, but he doesn’t show the signs of exhaustion that the Seeker sees so clearly on Hawkes faces, on many faces in the Inquisition.  
  
“You playing nice Seeker?” he asks.  
  
“Cassandra is nice,” Hawke says in her defence. “We’re becoming firm friends.”  
  
“I better get some sleep,” Varric says. “I’ve obviously been up too long.”  
  
Hawke laughs at Cassandra’s growl, nudging the seeker and smiling.  
  
“Don’t mind him,” she says. “He’s nice too deep down.”  
  
“I’m sure,” Cassandra replies doubtfully and Varric gives her a winning smile before looking back to his manuscript.   


* * *

  
  
They are becoming friends Cassandra realises one morning. She’s already run through her own drills, but Hawke - Marian – is always up later and finds someone else to spar with. They’ve gone a few rounds together on afternoons they are both free and Cassandra has found they’re equally matched. Whatever exaggerations there are in Varric’s book, the Champion is as skilled and as dangerous as the dwarf wrote.  
  
Cassandra found herself yielding more than once, looking up at Marian’s flushed face, a little smile on her face over the victory and red strands of hair coming loose from her hair tie.  
  
They’ve become firm friends but Cassandra wants more without any way to ask for it.   
  
“You okay Cassandra?” Marian asks.  
  
“Hmmm, oh yes, sorry, I was just-”  
  
“You looked like you were thinking about the book of Varric’s you like so much.”  
  
Cassandra blushes bright red. It was only thanks to Marian’s cajoling that Varric even wrote a new chapter of his serial and she’s immensely grateful and completely embarrassed. Still, she read the entire thing twice in a day and doesn’t regret opening up to Marian about her interests. About anything.   
  
The other woman is easy to talk to and surprisingly sweet. She’s less and less like the Champion in Varric’s book every day.  
  
“Want to talk about it?” Marian asks.  
  
“No,” she says, too quickly but Marian simply smiles.   
  
She understands her, Cassandra realises, knows when to push and when to leave her alone and she appreciates that more than anything. She has friends, but no one gives her as much room as Marian has done these past few weeks. Except perhaps Leliana who has known her longer than anyone else but learnt the hard way. Marian already knows.   
  
It’s nice, she thinks, to be understood for a change. To be understood and not judged.  
  
They’re sitting at Varric’s table, it’s late and the hall has emptied out of most of the visitors. Varric is away with the Inquisitor in the Exalted Plains. It’s become their regular place to spend time together. Hawke likes the warmth and spending time with Varric when he’s around. Even when he’s writing and not listening. Cassandra likes spending time with Marian, even when Varric’s around.   
  
“Missing Varric?” she asks, not for the first time wondering at their relationship.  
  
“Not too much,” Marian says, looking at the man’s empty seat, then at Cassandra. “You?” Cassandra laughs at that. “You’re warming to him though.”  
  
“Perhaps. My issue was never with his personality.”  
  
“Really?”   
  
Cassandra chuckles again.  
  
“Why did he hide your location? You knew we were talking to him. Looking for you?”  
  
She’s been dying to ask for weeks, but the better she’s gotten to know the other woman the harder it’s been to ask. Even though the question forms the entire basis of their current friendship. She doesn’t want to ruin that, chase Marian away again because they still need her. Cassandra still needs her.  
  
She’s not angry any more, but she knows what the inquisition needs.  
  
“I knew. You weren’t very subtle about it,” she says. “I told him to and Varric is loyal to his friends. And he understood why.”  
  
“Why what?”  
  
“Why I didn’t want to be your Inquisitor,” Marian says a little sharp in Cassandra’s ears. “Why I just wanted to hide away. I’m actually surprised you didn’t realise it yourself.”  
  
“I don’t...don’t understand,” Cassandra says.   
  
Marian shakes her head, she leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. She’s still and quiet for a little while, Cassandra wonders if she’s going to fall to sleep in the chair again but after a few moments she speaks again, eyes still closed.  
  
“You lost your brother yes? Your parents too?” she says quietly and Cassandra jerks up straight, the

pain of the memories lancing through her unexpected.  
  
“Yes, yes,” she pushes the words out and then jumps when she feels Marian squeezing her hand.   
  
“Your entire order, friends and people you consider family.” Cassandra can’t answer but Marian carries on. “And you still came here, to do this. Put together an Inquisition and save the world.”  
  
“Yes,” she breathes. Marian is still holding her hand, but the ache hurts too much to really think much about it. It’s sudden enough that she wasn’t prepared for it and let her defences down far too much around the other woman.  
  
“That’s because you’re a better person than me.”  
  
There are tears in her eyes when she finally opens them, and she gives Cassandra a weak smile before standing up, dropping her hand.  
  
“Good night Cassandra.”  
  
She leaves without waiting for the reply Cassandra can’t give her. The pain is too much and now, now it’s mixed with shame.  


* * *

  
  
“I don’t know how to do anything else,” Cassandra says.  
  
A few days have passed and they’ve been avoiding each other. At least, Cassandra has been avoiding Marian. But she can’t any longer. The pain of the past has dulled and been replaced with the pain of hurting Marian, of being apart from her, of shame, shame, shame.  
  
It was going so nicely as well.  
  
Marian looks up from her ale, her blue eyes are dark, rims around them still dark. She’s paler than Cassandra has ever seen her but she smiles anyway and it’s genuine and warm. Cassandra sits opposite her, keeping a little distance.   
  
“But it doesn’t make me a better person,” she adds.   
  
Marian nods but doesn’t speak and Cassandra is desperate for her to say something. Neither of them are big talkers but the other woman is certainly better with words than her. The silence continues and the Seeker panics and finds more words, forces them out, feels them.   
  
“You lost your family recently, some only a few years ago. I was a child when I lost my parents and it’s been over twenty years since my brother – Anthony – died,” she says. “I have not forgotten what the grief feels like, but I have...buried it so deep that I had not considered, or recalled, those early days, those first few years and how I felt when I started looking for you. I only thought about stopping the war, not that you were a real person who was probably still grieving,” she takes a breath. “Is probably still grieving,” she amends.  
  
Marian is staring at her and it takes a moment of stunned silence for her to react.  
  
Then she smiles.  
  
“Is that the most you’ve spoken in one go?” she asks.   
  
Cassandra blushes but smiles.  
  
“Very possibly,” she says.   
  
“I am still grieving,” Marian admits.   
  
“You probably always be.”  
  
It comes out as a whisper, unexpected, and Cassandra looks away from Marian’s soft smile only for the other woman to take her hand across the table.   
  
“Let’s get out of here,” she says. “You can tell me about Anthony. Your parents.”   
  
“Only if you speak of your own family.”  
  
Marian nods and if she were anyone else, Cassandra would run, run and find the nearest enemy to battle. To take out her grief out on demons or Red Templars or bandits. Instead, she lets Marian lead her to her room, still holding her hand even when she tries to pull it away for fear of being seen, being misunderstood, by Marian, by everyone, by her own damn heart that beats so wildly. She does not think she can even speak her brother’s name again tonight, let alone talk of his death with this woman who she definitely does not have feelings for.  
  
But Marian offers so much and asks for so little.  
  
They do not talk of death though and Cassandra does not cry. Not that she’s sure she can any more but instead she finds herself laughing as Marian tells her stories about the adventures she had with her brother and sister as children and young adults. The accidents Bethany had when learning to control her magic. The accidents Carver had learning to use a sword. The things she got up to in Kirkwall with Varric and the pirate Isabela and the rest of the friends she made there.  
  
Cassandra tells her own stories, the games her parents played with her when she was very young, the tricks she and Anthony played on her uncle, the jokes she shared when she was training as a Seeker. Her poor attempts at training her first apprentice.   
  
She loves the sound of Marian’s laugh, it was quiet but genuine, lighting up her whole face. Her blue eyes shining in the candlelight. A particular funny story would have her falling back onto the bed on which they sat, giggling and clutching her sides. Cassandra’s own laugh wasn’t nearly as attractive she decides8ujio.  
  
When Marian falls to sleep on the bed, listening to a story Cassandra is telling her about facing the choice between being caught naked in front of seven dwarves or starting a war with Orzammar, the Seeker realises how late it is.  
  
When she goes to leave Marian stops her, reaching out and taking her hand before she can even fully stand up.  
  
“Stay,” she says softly, barely above a whisper. “Sleep with me.”  
  
She tugs Cassandra towards her but she resists.  
  
“Marian I-,” she pauses, trying to pull back and Marian let’s go.   
  
“I’m not asking you to sleep with me, I’m asking you to sleep with me.”  
  
There is no distinction in her words, no emphasis, and she only has one eye open. She’s watching Cassandra carefully though, the other woman still sitting on her bed. The Seeker nods, realising what Marian wants from her. Literally to sleep. And she stands to take off some of her layers, stripping down to her cotton shift and her breeches.   
  
Marian doesn’t move to do the same, and Cassandra takes it upon herself to help the rogue out of her leathers, ignoring the single raised eyebrow above the one open eye. She yawns, Cassandra following.  
  
“Were you planning to sleep in your leathers?” she asks eventually, pulling back the covers.  
  
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Marian replies, tucking herself under the blankets. Cassandra blows the candles out and does the same but keeps her distance, space between them. “Tell me something Cassandra,” she says into the darkness. The seeker listens, her eyes adjusting and looking over the silhouette of Marian Hawke in the bed next to her.   
  
“What else would you like to know?”  
  
Marian chuckles at that.  
  
“Everything,” she whispers, “but for now, do you have feelings for me?”  
  
It’s a plain question. Cassandra appreciates that. Not that she’s sure of the answer.   
  
“Yes,” she admits, “though I am unsure what they are.”  
  
“That’s a good start,” Marian says. “Good night Cassandra.”  
  
“Goodnight,” she replies, “Marian.”  
  
The rogue mumbles something Cassandra doesn’t catch but it doesn’t matter, she’s asleep before she can ask her what she said.  


* * *

  
  
In the morning Marian sleeps in and Cassandra rises with the sun as usual. Except they spent the night in the same bed, clothed, and Cassandra admitted to feelings. She notes that Marian has not made any admission of her own but perhaps she does not have to. Perhaps she too is waiting to be asked.  
  
Cassandra supposes she has been given the way to ask, to repeat the question back to Marian.   
  
For now, she continues with her morning routine and waits for the other woman to rise. The Inquisitor is still in the Exalted Plains and while there are troops to train and various tasks to complete, her days are mostly free for her to organise while she is in Skyhold.  
  
She is free to spend as much of that time with Marian if she wishes.  
  
If the Champion Of Kirkwall ever gets up.   
  
By midday, Marian still hasn’t risen however and Cassandra finds herself unable to wait. Though she’s not sure what’s she waiting for. She decides to take them both lunch, climbing the steps slowly as she holds the tray. She knocks and Marian calls out, the woman sitting on her bed and reading a book.  
  
“I thought you were still asleep,” Cassandra says, trying to ignore the little sprig of hurt that appears with the knowledge that Marian had not come looking for her.  
  
“I thought you would come and find me. Or that you would be here when I woke up,” Marian says. Then quieter. “Or that you regretted last night.”  
  
“No,” Cassandra says. “I do not regret it, but I had thought you would come and find me. I guess we were both wrong.”  
  
“It happens,” Marian smiles then and looks at the tray. “Breakfast?”  
  
“Lunch, it has gone noon,” Cassandra chides. “When exactly did you rise?”  
  
Marian blushes.  
  
“We were up late,” she says and Cassandra smiles, laying the tray at the end of the bed and sitting down.  
  
“That we were, come and eat.”   
  
Marian shifts down the bed to sit next to her, smiling.   
  
“This was nice of you,” she says, “thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
They eat in silence, the bread and cheese going quickly, the meat lasting a little longer as they both savour it. Cassandra has brought tea too, but they leave it to drink with their sweet buns. The Seeker sneaks glances at Marian as they sit side by side, the other woman doing the same and they both blush.   
  
“I must ask,” Cassandra starts, then pauses but Marian waits until she’s ready, until the words come. “Do you have feelings for me?”  
  
Marian smiles, moving the tray from between them and sitting next to Cassandra, their thighs touching now. She leans over a little to kiss Cassandra on the cheek, red hair brushing her skin for a briefer moment than her lips.   
  
She pulls back and is flushed red and smiling still.  
  
“Definitely,” she says.   
  
Cassandra is flushed red too, she can feel it but manages to put her fear and embarrassment aside to kissed Marian Hawke back, just lightly on the lips.   
  
“We’re very alike you and I,” Marian whispers, “aside from the need the rise early in the morning,”   
  
Cassandra chuckles.  
  
“We are.”  
  
Marian kisses her again, pulls her down onto the bed and lies on her side to face her so they are closer, so she can deepen the kiss.  
  
“I take it the feelings you have for me are good,” Marian mumbles against Cassandra’s

lips.   
  
“Mostly,” she says and Marian laughs. “And your feelings?”  
  
“Oh they’re all good Cassandra, all good.”  
  
A hand rests on the Seekers thigh, gentle and more reassuring than Cassandra expected her touch to be. Marian trails her touch up her leg, slow and sure. She kisses her again, slow and sure and before she realises it she is tasting the tea and metal and something new on Marian’s tongue, gasping before pulling the other woman closer.  
  
“I have things to do this afternoon,” she murmurs and Cassandra laughs.  
  
“No you do not,” the Seeker says and Marian smiles into another kiss.   
  
“How do you know?” she whispers, kissing down her jaw, over the scar on her cheek to her neck.  
  
“You spend all your afternoons with me,” Cassandra moans as she feels Marian’s tongue flicker over the tight cords of her neck. She sits up then, and the rogue grumbles, lying on her back, legs hanging over the edge.   
  
“I was joking,” she says but Cassandra ignores her, fingers working on the buckles of her armour. She pulls the chest plate off and places it carefully on the floor. She stands then, walking around to the other end of the bed and sitting back down.  
  
“Wasting an afternoon with you will be more comfortable without my armour,” she says by way of explanation and Marian scrambles up the bed to join her, lying on top of her and kissing her again.  
  
“You’d definitely be more comfortable without all these clothes too,” Marian tells her, lips barely leaving hers, hands on the buttons of her leather tunic. “Trust me.”  
  
“I do,” Cassandra says and Marian sucks in a breath.   
  
“I trust you too,” she tells her. “I love you.”  
  
Cassandra pulls back to look at her face, and it’s familiar to her once more. Sweeter, certainly, but sincere and a little scared.   
  
“I love you too.”   
  
They kiss again and clothes are removed layer by layer. Marian is beautiful, soft skin patterned with scars, marred and marked in the same way her own body is. She’s stronger than she looks when clothed, muscles well defined. When Cassandra runs her hand down her arm she can feel the tension deep within them barely held back as they kiss and caress one another. She’s never done this before with another woman but she’s following instincts that seem to be serving her well enough. Especially when she kisses a line down Marian’s neck to her breasts and risks running her tongue around her nipple, delighting in the way it tightens and peaks between her lips. Marian cries out, arching up into Cassandra’s mouth.   
  
“Please,” she whimpers when the Seeker runs a hand up her thigh, squeezing the muscles there. She’s impressed and aroused, her own body pulsing with need and as she kisses across Marian’s chest to press her lips to the rogue’s other nipple she finds her way between her legs.  
  
“Is this o-kay?” Cassandra whispers against her breast, fingers barely brushing the coarse red hair between Marian’s legs. She’s damp there, hot even as Cassandra isn’t even really touching her.   
  
“Please Cassandra, please, it’s fine, really.”  
  
She wants to laugh, giddy on her feelings and the way Marian is so desperate for Cassandra to touch her. And she does, she presses her fingers into the slick at her centre, learning and listening to Marian as she finds the woman’s clit and circles it with her fingertips. The rogue cries out, her hips arching up and moving in a rhythm Cassandra can’t keep up with at first.  
  
“Cassandra,” she moans, “I need you-” she moans again, “inside, please.”  
  
For a moment Cassandra panics, unsure exactly what Marian means. She remembers quick enough, nights she’s spent alone with her own fantasies, her own fingers and then she’s slipping one, then another finger through the heat at Marian’s core and into her tight body.  
  
“Oh Maker,” Marian pulls at her hair and Cassandra follows, the other woman kissing her desperately as she starts to move her hand. Slowly at first, learning again, trying to remember how it felt the last time someone touched her like this, trying to remember the last time she touched herself like this.  
  
Too long, she thinks, way too long.  
  
Marian is panting, hips following Cassandra’s rhythm now and she experiments, plays with Marian, scissoring her fingers, curling them, taking one away, adding another. The other woman is full of her, three fingers hard and deep and Cassandra is jealous of all things, wants the same for herself.  
  
“Soon, love,” Marian says, “soon.”  
  
Cassandra falters, blushing as she realises she spoke some of her thoughts out loud.   
  
“I’ll make you-”  
  
The sentence isn’t finished as Cassandra finds Marian’s clit with her thumb again circles it, rough and uncoordinated but it’s enough to tip the other woman over into oblivion. She cries out Cassandra’s name, grabbing her wrist and forcing the Seeker to keep moving, keep fucking her until she sobbing and wrung out, nails digging into Cassandra’s skin for a moment before her entire body relaxes.  
  
“Holy crap,” she pants and pulls Cassandra down for another hard kiss. “Holy crap Cassandra.”  
  
“That was okay?”  
  
Marian laughs, a bark not unlike her own, followed by a cough and Cassandra has enough sense left in her aroused state to get her some water to drink.   
  
“Yes, Maker, that was amazing,” she manages after a long drink.   
  
“I’ve never...done this with a woman before,” Cassandra admits, most of her red cheeks a flush of embarrassment. Marian kisses her again, dropping the cup to the floor without a care. “Perhaps I should’ve mentioned it earlier.”  
  
“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Marian says, rolling the Seeker onto her back, hands running up and down her sides. “It doesn’t change anything.”   
  
Marian kisses her again, just quickly, hands on her breasts before she can even reply. Cassandra gasps, more surprised than anything else, then moans as thumbs find tight brown nipples.   
  
“Good?” The rogue asks and Cassandra nods. Marian takes one nipple in her mouth, still caressing the Seeker’s other breast and she isn’t really for the shot of pleasure that bolts down her body like magic.   
  
“Good,” she manages to moan and Marian chuckles.   
  
“Can I go down on you?” she asks. “Do you want me to?”  
  
Cassandra doesn’t understand, can’t quite get her brain to work but then Marian is kissing down her sternum, over her abs, mumbling about how hot they are before she realises.  
  
“Oh,” Cassandra gasps. “Marian.”  
  
“Is that a yes?” she asks, kissing just above Cassandra’s centre.   
  
“Yes,” she breathes and Marian shifts to lie between her legs. Cassandra can’t quite push the anxiety aside at first, especially when the other woman seems to do nothing except breathe on her. Then she feels it, the first touch of her tongue, licking through her click centre and up to her clit and she forgets everything else.   
  
Marian presses down on her clit, circles it, flicks over it and Cassandra can’t keep up. It’s too good, too much for her and she gasps and moans and then cries out when she feels one of Marian’s fingers pressing against the entrance to her body.  
  
“Okay?” she asks.  
  
“Please,” she moans.   
  
Marian presses a single long finger into her body and wraps her lips around Cassandra’s swollen sensitive clit. She cries out again, wondering if she should be restraining herself, her voice but unable to do anything but grab onto Marian’s red hair and buck her hips. She pulls the single finger in deeper to her own body.  
  
“More,” she whimpers and Marian obliges, two fingers now, thrusting in and out slowly. Cassandra follows the movements, lost to the sensations that seem to go on forever. Marian moving hard and fast, pushing her higher for longer than she can ever remember. She can’t remember this ever feeling so good either but it’s been so long and when Marian thrusts particularly hard and sucks even harder on her clit she’s gone.  
  
She screams.  
  
So Marian tells her later but she doesn’t recall it, not in the dizzy way her orgasm hits her and leaves her panting and hoarse much like Marian was.   
  
Marian is still moving her fingers slowly, replacing her mouth with her thumb, sitting up and watching Cassandra as she pushes more pleasure through the Seeker’s body until she’s too sensitive and manages to stutter for her to stop.   
  
Marian kisses her then, tasting of Cassandra, drawing her fingers slowly from her body. She wraps her arms around her, pulls the Seeker close, curling around her body.  
  
“That was amazing Cassandra,” Marian says. “Are you okay?”  
  
Cassandra wants to laugh again because it should be obvious that she is more than okay. She simply smiles, kisses Marian’s cheek.   
  
“I love you,” she says.   
  
“I love you too,” Marian says. “But don’t judge me for falling to sleep for the rest of the afternoon.”  
  
Cassandra chuckles  
  
“I would never judge you,” she says. “For that.”  
  
Marian laughs too.  
  
“We make a good pair,” she tells her, closing her eyes. “Despite our differences.”  
  
Cassandra smiles, she doesn’t think they’re all that different. Too similar in so many ways but Marian is already asleep and Cassandra not far behind.


End file.
